


Tell Me I'm Good

by vexahliaderolo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Age Play, Anal Sex, And a little bit of, Barebacking, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Size Difference, Stomach Bulge, all the kinks are very mild here i think, but it's not that deep really but just in case!!!, i'm also tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 01:23:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexahliaderolo/pseuds/vexahliaderolo
Summary: Molly corners his prey and quickly finds he may have bitten off more than he can chew.





	Tell Me I'm Good

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, please don't look at me lol this is just pure smut, spice and a fun time for all!  
> unbeta'd as always, even less than usual, I am fearless in the face of typos in my pwp apparently. 
> 
> I HC Fjord as being a little chubby and just a big dude in general, Molly in my mind is pretty much the opposite.

“C’mon,” Molly whined, sharp, cold heels pressing into the fleshy backs of fjord’s thighs and he cursed the moment he’d let the other keep them on. “You’re technically— Ah— Older than me, so maybe take control for once.”

 

“I  _ am _ taking control.” He gave a satisfyingly rough cant of his hips to punctuate his frustration, allowing himself just the millisecond between his own breaths to appreciate the high-pitched keen it elicited from the tiefling below. “And I am almost certainly older than you.”

 

It hadn’t been what he had said but rather the way he had said it that gave Molly pause, that harsh intonation, the sneaking intent; There was half a beat where Fjord didn’t notice the creeping grin on Mollymauk’s wet, flushed lips. Half a beat where he felt he might have been safe from whatever unknown fantasy was lurking just under his skin. 

 

“Oh?” Even winded from the force of Fjord’s hips on his and blotchy with startling burgundy bruises left earlier by Fjord’s wanton mouth, Molly had the ability to sound like nothing was particularly out of the ordinary. “Want me to say thank you, old man? For all your terribly  _ hard _ work?” 

 

The intentional pressure they exuded with that one word was not lost on Fjord, and Gods, he wished he had let Molly rip the shirt from his shoulders when he had offered, wished he could do it now so as only to remove the cotton that familiarly pointed, painted nails clung to, bringing Fjord down with an unruly tug, their faces now less than an inch apart. The impossibility of ignoring the way that fanged grin met him as his gaze levelled out was a problem, a problem that had Fjord sweating a little heavier, squared and squat fingers dragging routinely over bedraggled knits that littered the seat they were in the middle of defiling. It was of little comfort to realise they were probably not the first to do so. The effort to distract himself from Mollymauk was wasted, his silence was merely the catalyst the other needed to continue, Fjord supposed he had always been rather good at self sabotage after all.

 

“Want me to tell you how big and strong you are? You’ve done so well.” Delicate fingers were carding through his hair now, which was startlingly dark and obscenely damp against Molly’s violet palms. It was a chore just to stop himself from purring the way he often did when the other pet him this way, soothing him to sleep with hushed praises and gentle rubs to his temples; it was different now though, all feline seduction and calculated movements, the rounded tips of his dainty fingers massaging lazily against the strained muscles of Fjord’s neck. “Fucked me so good, haven’t you?”

 

They had both stopped moving by this point, their bodies still except for Mollymauk’s steady travelling hands that had migrated back to his own lithe body, a body that made Fjord’s heart stumble and trip as it struggled to keep up with the quickened beat that the sight in front of him demanded; Molly’s fingers were always a delight to Fjord, long and smooth, nails curved to a point at the ends, taken care of and spoiled the way the rest of Molly often was too. They unravelled him at the best of times, so watching them now, sliding like a lazy river down the stark drop of a lilac rib cage, pushing playfully at the soft tissue of that similarly coloured stomach then daring to feign hesitation, just barely tickling the spattering of grey-violet hairs that lead past Molly’s hip line as the man in question smiled coyly up at Fjord. 

 

“Want me to say it?” It was a brief intermission, barely 30 seconds of reprieve before those gentle touches were dipping so low Fjord had to bow his head to follow their trail.

 

“Molly—” He warned with as much rumbling mirth as he could manage while he felt nothing but the rapid, unrelenting sound of his pulse in every inch of his being. This time the digits didn’t even bother to falsify their innocence, the palms they attached to flipped over now, warm and inviting and pressed flush against where Fjord’s pelvic bones sat beneath his plush skin, not pushing him away but not pulling him in either, they were just  _ there _ . It took him another moment to realise why. Those pretty hands lay there simply to bring attention to a sight Fjord had trouble reconciling them with; the cock he still had half buried inside the other.

 

“Or is that not enough?” Fjord’s stomach dropped as drastically as the volume in Molly’s voice, that familiar, jovial lilt replaced with a drawn out sound that the warlock was sure could set his skin alight with pure intention alone. The smile stayed though, firm in it’s well-earned place, stretching plush lips to mischievous widths, a fresh glint on his canines — a hunter with its prey in sight. He leaned back now, laid out on the couch like it was a four poster bed in the palace of a king, like it was rich silks and velvet that soothed his skin at a touch, not ratty blankets that made your body tingle with an itch from a single glance. It was a gift he had that Fjord basked in when he could, to look so regal and otherworldly, drenched in beauty and worth more than anything this and any plane could ever know, in even the darkest moments. Right now it was unfair, to disarm a man already so defeated, just to make the killing blow that much more delicious for himself;

 

“Want me to call you daddy?” Fjord stilled. He had been still before but this was different. It was like his heart had stopped, his pulse nothing more than a memory before it all came rushing back to him at once and he couldn’t help the shrivelled gasp that slipped by unsuspecting lips. It was enough, Molly had him by the throat with those sharpened teeth, that one single word wrapping around his neck like a leash. He hadn’t even noticed how Molly had already flipped his hands over again, the sweat slick brush of his knuckles on Fjord’s gut now instead of flat palms, until the man beneath him had spoken. “Mhm, knew it, you really do like it, don’t you? You can say no, if you’d like, won’t force it on you, I can feel it though.”

 

“Kind of you to say so, but I doubt my aura’s been givin’ off any of that kinky shit.” It was nice, he thought, to hear that ridiculous snort break through the sexual tension Molly had so carefully crafted, to feel that weight lift for a moment just to find his breath again, to watch the way Molly lifted one hand (his left, the one Fjord liked to hold at night when his dreams winded him like a mistimed step off a stairway) to stifle the charming sound that had already filtered away. He used that same hand to push up the bangs that stuck, determinedly stubborn, to his forehead, clenching those darling digits around the roots of those dampened purple locks.

 

“No but this,” Playtime was over once more, that fog of sex and untamed libido hitting them both full force all over again and Fjord felt the other smooth hand (Molly’s right one this time, the one that circled the scars on Fjord’s back when they bathed in too small tubs together, when neither of them would ever say a word) reach farther in to that gap between them, down and down until his length twitched, stimulated by the velvet brush of fingertips to either side of the exposed bottom of the shaft “Has been telling me all of your secrets, no magic involved.” 

 

It was unnerving just how devastatingly sexy the action had been. It was simple, nothing at all, just a slide of fingers against his cock but his body had gone, and was still going, wild. Perhaps it was the languid stroke of it, the way it had been so unexpected yet almost like he had been waiting for it, like it was a welcome rush of relief. It could have been the way it forced him to look down, to watch the way creamy violet skin slid over the swollen, dark skin of his member, or the way he had looked past that, focused instead of the stretch of Mollymauk around him, the way that reddened, puffy ring would squeeze down with every subtle slide of his dick inside it. So he moved, one gentle push forwards, ripping a stuttering moan from his lungs like he hadn’t felt this same tight heat just minutes earlier. 

 

Fjord only managed this experimental patience for a few more careful thrusts, his hips beginning to tremble on occasion; Molly’s right hand still lay where it had been, palm cupping his own stiffening length as his fingers framed Fjord’s now frantically pistoning cock, the slick sound of that mixed with the wet slap of Fjord’s hips to his quickly reddening arse, bruises blooming like the roses on his arm, brought Molly no shame or embarrassment. In fact, they did nothing but embolden him, if such a thing were possible. With his left hand still tangled in to his hair he struggled to keep his eyes upwards, blood red jewels peeking out from under thick, moist lashes.

 

“Just like that—” His breath caught on a particular strong thrust, the angle close enough to his sweet spot that he could feel the numbing tingle it brought on the tip of tongue, the threat of his mouth going to waste was imminent and so he hurried along, his worlds a mess of what they could have been but he knew it wouldn’t matter once Fjord got the important parts. “So good, you’re so good for me, daddy. Always fucking me right, always getting so deep. Can feel it, I can feel you here,” Pausing only long enough to make sure Fjord had enough sense to follow where he dragged his right hand up to, arching his back just enough to accentuate the slight bulge that ended just above his pubic area, that moved every time Fjord pounded his hips forward, drawing circular patterns around and over the subtle movement under his skin, the edges of his vision blurring at the touch; it was hard not to keen at the sound Fjord made in response, low and guttural and the opposite to everything Molly forced out of his steadily loosening lips. Every sound he made was smooth and breathy, all drawn out moans with soft ‘n’s that rounded them out at the end. He liked the way they made Fjord blush, liked the way they made him look at Molly like he was an angel, even when he was speared on the end of his perfectly thick, sublimely veiny cock. When Molly spoke again it was with even more difficulty than before. “Stretching me inside. I’m all shaped like you, daddy.”

 

Had it always been so easy to goad Fjord like this? To use nothing but easily found hidden words to practically force those stocky hands to grab the back of silky, flushed thighs and push them down, sharp boned knees now knocking into a thin, tattooed chest; Molly thought he might snap then, his body bent in two like it was nothing, Fjord towering above him, beads of sweat dripping from his chin and hitting Molly’s neck below but he didn’t notice. Couldn’t feel anything beyond the rhythmic pounding of Fjord inside of him, a slick mixture of precum and oils spilling from the roughly spread ring of muscle, each drop following the other, painting a trail down the expanse of Molly’s back, slow as honey. He was babbling now, biting his tongue and his lips between words without even noticing the stabbing pains before he moved on to the next purposefully loaded praise.

 

“Don’t you wanna talk to me? Don't you want to call me your baby?” By this point his arms had turned to jelly, useless and numb, so he lay them above his head, braced against the armrest behind his head as if they could do anything against the force Fjord was exerting now, his whole body rocking with every movement the other man made against him. “Tell me how good I feel, wanna hear it. Tell me how much you want to fill me u—”

 

Cut off by what could only be described as a growl, his fingers tightened over the blankets that draped the hard wood of the seat’s skeleton, feeling the tightening of that coil in his stomach, unable to do anything but squirm under Fjord’s stern gaze, though he was anything but done.

 

“Mollymauk.” A clever ploy, his full name, tantalisingly sweet on the lips of another, but not enough.

 

“Want it.” Molly continued, unrelenting in his usual way, finding the ability to at least offer a small roll of his own hips, the movement barely noticeable but he knew Fjord had felt it from the telltale flutter of his eyelids. “Want to hear you say it. Wanna cum like this, you inside me, talking to me, filling—”

 

“ _ Molly _ .” Interrupted again, but the tiefling could see Fjord’s stability subsiding, the familiarly charming way his eyebrows creased, almost meeting in the middle as he frequently forgot to keep his eyes open, rounded lips hanging open with every open sigh of pleasure, a giveaway that he was close enough that Molly could tip him over the edge with just the slightest touch. So of course, he wanted to do it with his words. Gods, it wasn’t enough. 

 

“Please.” Came his quick retort, hushed and drowning in the need that was already obvious in the way his hands draped listless above his knotting hair, or in the way his legs lay spread across the sailor’s thighs, wide open and inviting, now that they weren’t being held by jade toned hands. He could have sworn he saw the cogs fall apart behind Fjord’s carefully crafted and stubborn exterior. It was a sight to behold, watching his shoulder slump as his hips surged forward, rough and harsh, determined to end this their way and not before. Molly had been so set on unravelling every inch of Fjord with this set-up that he hadn’t really stopped to think about what it might do to him. Well, he had the time now, every nerve standing to attention as Fjord’s voice broke through the gathering haze of his impending orgasm like a match being struck in the dead of night.

 

“You want it? Alright, since you want it, I’ll give it to you.” He was so close now, leaning over the small in comparison body of Mollymauk below him. So close that Molly could feel that warm breath tickling his throat as the other dipped low, peppering sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to his throat. Molly hesitated to even call them that, they were more tongue and teeth than anything else, a mark more than a gesture. Eventually he made his way back to those delicate lips of Molly’s again, quiet for the first time in hours, though as Fjord continued to dodge any attempts at a meeting of their mouths, he couldn’t help but to whine. “You want to know it feels?”

 

Molly nodded, though the regret at his earlier brash confidence was already pooling next to the budding warmth in his gut and as both of Fjord’s hands encircled his hips, pulling with so much strength that Molly could already see the perfectly formed bruises in his mind's eye before the image shattered at the feeling of Fjord holding him where he lay; his body was being pressed on from above by Fjord’s, the other man plush and soft, usually filling his clothes in a way that made Molly want to kiss every patch of skin he’d left uncovered, yet somehow even more enticing without the fabric constraints around him. Then, there was the now familiar but still overwhelming stretch of the half-orc’s cock, a healthy girth that Molly could never quite manage to fit to the back of his throat, a width that pushed the limits of what a single hand could do. The length curved up just so, usually sliding enticingly over Molly’s prostate every few thrusts, leading him comfortably toward his release like a gentle lover might. Now, though, it sat right there, pressing and pressing, even the gentle pulse in Fjord’s member enough of a change in pressure against it to have Molly’s thighs spasm. It was pressure from all sides, holding him still and holding him firm. He couldn’t move, though he was certain he didn’t want to and just as certain that if he did, Fjord would have let him.

 

“Feels like heaven. Feels slick, and hot.” Small circles were being rubbed in to Molly’s hips by thick thumbs, but he could barely tell, feeling more clearly the words that Fjord spoke tumbling across his skin, hitting every button he didn’t know lay beneath. “I could fuck you like this for days, keep you here under me until neither of us could move. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby?” Molly’s body jumped like it had been shocked, another devilish press inside of him making it happen all over again, a cycle he couldn’t bear to stop. “How many times could you take?” He lifted his body then, but kept Molly where he was with just one hand, the other hovering just above the amethyst plane of Molly’s stomach, calloused palm brushing over it as lightly as a feather might. “How  _ much _ could you take?”

 

He hadn’t meant to cry out the way he had, unguarded and loud, the sound breaking in a way that relaid just how the thought affected him a little too well. The heat still pooled in him, it grew with every second, deeper it went, filling every part of him until it felt like fire in his veins, burning him from the inside out. He was so close that his cock, smaller than Fjord’s but still decently sized, thinner too but curved in a similar way, the head was now subtly swollen with his need, the precum that beaded at the very tip shining under the dim light above them.

 

“I need it.” His voice was nothing but an empty rasp now, the energy to fill it with the intricacies of before long gone, it was all he could do to lift his hips enough to elicit a grunt from Fjord, though the latter recovered quickly and Molly was left wondering where this stamina had been hiding, and why he had decided to allow himself to be so overcome with the hubris of thinking he could tame it. 

 

“Need what?” Oh, the strength to be haughty and demanding, he missed it.

 

“You, inside. Cum inside, please.” Full sentences too; he just longed for the familiar bitterness of his quick wit poisoning his tongue again. 

 

Molly could feel the twitch against his walls, could notice the way Fjord had to clench and unclench his fists at Molly’s sides, an exercise in patience, but he couldn’t notice the small sadistic flicker in Fjord’s eyes — too tired or too fucked to care — and so he couldn’t predict the way Fjord leaned back, too big for the armrest that creaked behind him but he made it work; He lifted one arm up, letting it lay over the cushions that made up the back of the seating arrangement whilst his other hand rubbed along the whole length of Molly’s thigh, an action made easy by the obscenely large width of Fjord’s palms. The action was so oddly soothing that Molly would have laughed if he could muster the energy to do so, focusing all of his energy on not screaming in frustrated exhaustion as Fjord all but pulled out of him whilst settling in to this new position. Molly was forced to sit up, at least halfway, leaning back on his own elbows in a way not dissimilar to Fjord, though his small stature and lack of back support meant he still had to look up towards the bigger man, one eyebrow hitched in a questioning expression. 

 

“If you need it, really need it, then I’m sure you can take it for yourself now, darlin’.” Molly had heard a tale once on his journeys, of a man who created a new life out of death, only for it to be something akin to a monster that only caused him to suffer. Something too great to control. He imagined this was a similar feeling. His expression must have given his displeasure away as he heard, and felt, Fjord’s laughter, a chuckle that would have been kind if not for the incessant movement of his hand on Molly’s leg and the bratty twitch of his lip as he smirked his way through every word he practically sang to the other.

 

“Come on now, baby, I’m here. I’m right here.” A single, teasing roll of full hips pushed him half an inch back in to Molly’s heat, a sweet, fulfilling moment before it was quickly gone again, the oiled, dribbling tip of his cock now the only thing keeping Molly open. “It’s not so far, just sway them hips this way, just a little, that’s it. It’ll be worth it, promise.” He kept talking, the tone of his voice dipping lower and lower, that same gravelly rasp from before returning but the drag of it became a genuine comfort, the slow lull and the way the syllables seemed to roll off of his thick lower lip had Molly hanging on his every word as he eased himself forward, basking in the way it felt to be so lazily stretched over that searing hot length. Molly didn’t want to moan the way he did, didn’t want the shake of his shoulders to be so obvious as he rocked his hips back and forth, the languid, uneven rhythm somehow even better than the heavy, militant pounding he’d been taking earlier. 

 

It was strange, he thought, how he had felt the difference in them then, a false one, like he really was as inexperienced as this act had made him seem. Then, eyes wet with the promise of a pleasure not yet received, he searched for Fjord’s and found them, grounded and strong where he was faltering, and that calming, monotonous slide against his thigh was back again. 

 

“There you go, just like that.” It was much of the same, gentle praises interrupted by the occasional low rumble of a moan, obtusely contrary to the feeble hiccups that fell from Molly’s constantly parted lips, he was so exhausted now that he wondered how he was even moving at all. Fjord was taking pity on him, he found, giving a soft push of his own hips when Molly faltered; it wasn’t until Mollymauk was numb with the sustained pleasure of that gentle drag that he felt the muscles in Fjord’s thighs finally begin to tense, their already lacklustre rhythm staggering almost to a halt before Molly watched as Fjord’s head fell back, the arm that had been rest on the chair lifted and stout fingers grasped at the sweat slick hair that curled into his eyes. Molly wanted to watch, wanted to drag tired eyes over every inch of that taut body, wanted enough time to be able to commit the way his hips lifted at an angle pushing as deep as he could in to Molly when he peaked, wanted to be able to recall with perfect accuracy whenever he pleased the way in which plump lips fell open, the way he cursed like Molly always knew he could before the hushed, obscenely low gasp of Molly’s name on his tongue came right after. It was perfect and mesmerising and Molly wanted nothing more than to watch it unfold in front of him. Except, perhaps, for the feeling of warmth that came rushing inside as it did. Fjord had pulsed and twitched inside of him, cock swelling deliciously with his release, the liquid thick and hot as it poured in to Molly. He never got tired of this, the full feeling as Fjord pushed his hips flush against Molly’s arse again, the way green, soft flesh met purple, jutting bones. It was the way Fjord knew what he needed, knew exactly what that last gentle shove across the finish line was and so he was sitting up now, on his knees again and looking down at Molly with that same look he always had. An angel, Molly thought, would probably not be on his back in a back alley inn with his legs in the air and gut full of cum. But he hadn’t yet finished and so he wouldn’t spoil the mood. Not yet.

 

What was angelic was the moment Fjord finally kissed him, both of their mouths tired and lips chapped from dehydration, but hungry all the same. A need for the other pushed them on and even though both the movement of their mouths and of Fjord’s hips, milking his own release and searching for Molly’s, were lazy, it was enough. Mollymauk didn’t know at the moment it happened whether it was the way Fjord sunk his teeth in to his lower lip, tugging so gently it made Molly’s heart clench in his chest, or whether it was the way he could feel Fjord still inside him, the remnants of his seed spilling out in a messy mixture, sliding down the smooth slope of Molly’s behind. Whatever it was, it was enough. Too much, perhaps. His body arched and his eyes squeezed together in what probably looked to be a silent prayer. It was closer to a silent curse, his fists clench and pressed up against Fjord’s chest as he rued the day he let himself be lulled into a false sense of control, even if the stars blooming under his eyelids were beautiful, or that the feeling of something deep in him, warm and heavy made every nerve buzz with electricity until he felt none of it, and even if the way his stomach tensed and released over and over was so goddamn good in a way it had never been, the sense of relief turning his bones to jelly when he felt his own spend wet against his abdomen, he still wasn’t sure it was worth the trouble of losing to Fjord in a battle of wits.

 

They lay together now, a pile of skin, sweat and quickly sticking cum, Fjord so acutely aware of just how startlingly lewd he had become in the space of an hour that he could do nothing but keep his face pressed in to the horribly toasty crook of Molly’s neck. The latter could only lay where he was, partly because he was exhausted and partly because it felt nice to just be there for now. Fjord was heavy on top of him, too warm and too lovely. Fjord thought that Molly was small below him, too sweaty and too beautiful. 

 

“You look pretty like this. Maybe it’s the light.” Fjord said, lifting his head at last, a fine dusting of pink and darkened greens still stuck to his cheeks like glue. It even reached his ears, Molly saw, another heartbeat was skipped as he noticed.

 

“So, dimly lit rooms are the ones for me? Got it, loverboy.” It was so unceasingly delightful to watch the way he lit up like a firecracker, red from his embarrassment and glowing in the after sex sheen of sweat. 

 

“Not what I meant ‘n’ you know it.” Molly smiled without replying. It felt good to be back to himself, to be making Fjord blush and fumble and hide his face back in the welcoming embrace of Molly’s chest. 

 

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to let Fjord have control on occasion, would it? Molly found he could always use the firm hand of an older man to guide him. 


End file.
